Requiem
by AzureF
Summary: Humanity has become nothing but a disease, a plauge sweeping across the face of the earth. It is this that drives her to be what she is, but is her cure the answer? Surprisingly, one lone soul on a journey to become cold may provide an alternative...
1. The Cure

_Yet another deranged product of my twisted mind emerges anew from the cess pool that houses my demented inspiration.  
And this IS demented. People who easily become sick or horrifyed shouldn't be reading it._

_This is for those of you who like OC and the wonderful, insane comic known as JTHM. If you don't like OC... well, you really don't have to read it, but I would enjoy if you did. No? Well, I tried.  
If you don't like JTHM... well, you're saner than I am._

_This will be updated extremely sporadically. Meaning that no matter how many times you people beg me for new chapters, I won't put any up until I damn well feel like it (even though reviews are nice and I love them to death. Plus hearing that people want to read more of my stories fill me with fuzzy warmth). This could either mean that I could update twice in the same day, or that I could completely disappear for months on end. Don't worry if that happens, I am phase-like in nature and tend to go through different fics, putting my all into whichever one I have an idea for at the time and leaving the others to rot for a while until I get all I can onto the new one._

_Traditional disclaimer moment! I do NOT -do I look like I could come up with this shit?- own JTHM, IFS, Squee, or IZ. I merely enjoy using the characters -Iprobably won'tuse all of them, btw. This is meant to be just JTHM, and IZ would only make a background cameo, if anything- and putting them all through my ingenious little hell. Jhonen created them all, go bother him.  
Violence warning! Yeah, there's violence, and a lot of it. What do you seriously expect form anything that's a fanwork of JTHM, really? If you can't take it like I meant it, which is not at all serious and mostly to just express a point, then read that line over again. Yeah, the part where I said 'not at all serious and mostly to just express a point'. Got that? Good._

_Now... read or I'll have my army of rabid chipmunks show you the true meaning of pain!  
BTW- Nny doesn't even show up until second chap, sorry for those of you who wanted to see him now (puppy eyes)_

* * *

High in the sky, the sun, which had been thwarted for the entire day, managed to break through the thick gray fluff that was the remains left behind by a vicious storm. As the light touched gently and brightly upon the empty, deserted street, a few stray, waterlogged advertisements flit through the wispy, cold wind, brushing across the pavement slightly as they attempted to lift their papery bodies into the sky towards the distant point of light and the promise of dryness.

The trees, many of their branches strangely bare and tall forms so much like a skeleton as to induce a shiver into even the most hardened of people, bent lightly as the stroke of the breeze played against their limbs, soaking in the stray rays of light as if they would never get the chance to experience it again. A large, ethereal black bird flew from an unknown origin, gracefully alighting on one of the uppermost swaying limbs and preening its feathers for a moment before letting loose a harsh, croaking caw that shattered the silence. Its wings opened with a rustle, and it leapt off the branch, following a curious path towards a gradually rising sound in the distance.

The bird landed on the roof of a large building, cocking its head as it attempted to make sense of the sounds within the brick fortress. It peered down to the ground, the unearthly red eyes taking slight notice of the advertisements blowing along on their lonely way past the thick, arched double doors. As it watched this, the minute hand on the face of a clock sitting just below the avian twitched up another notch. An electric spark from this minuscule movement traveled up a wire that was connected to the clock, reaching a large, domed metal device attached to the face of the wall just beside the ebony form.

The bell exploded with a harsh, clattering ring, and the crow screamed in surprise, flying from its place so fast that several feathers drifted down from where it had been. Far below, dozens of forms erupted from the building, hooting and cheering and droning with loud and rather impolite talk as they scattered, many hopping into several brightly colored cars and driving away and still more breaking off into small groups of friends to head off in any direction possible that wasn't home. The sea of people was perfect in its flow; everyone had a place, and everyone had somewhere to go.

Then, a single form walked leisurely from the doors, and the flow was disrupted around it. Bright, flaring orange hair distinguished the anomaly instantly as something that didn't belong in the flow, something that was a clog in the otherwise smoothly flowing machine of sociality. Heavy, thick-soled black boots clomped on the pavement, their silver accents and red grips flashing slightly in the light as their owner stopped, letting the rush of people simply go around. Above those boots, dark jeans of a blue that was very nearly black flared out slightly at the bottom, revealing flashes of violet socks between them and the boots. The dark blue clashed harshly with the blood red shirt, which was overly long but not without a style of its own, and which held no image on the front or back, a fact that was not true for almost every other person that flowed around the recently dismissed school.

Slowly, a pale, almost white hand rose, in its clutches an important looking document upon which one of the black feathers immediately alighted and was just as quickly brushed off with an impatient flick. The other hand never moved, as it was already occupied, as it nearly always was, by the compact silver form of an old but still vital CD player. From this, a long black cord snaked its way up to the ears, which were hidden behind gigantic black and silver headphones. Faintly above the din of the people, the roar of a steady beat could be heard, and the person absentmindedly turned the volume up as their eyes roved over the words printed on the paper.

It was these eyes that distinguished the person more than any other feature, for not only were they set into a permanent, half-lidded glare of hatred and disinterest; they were of a stark, yellow-gold color that was astonishingly bright and frighteningly predatory. Below these eyes, below the almost dainty nose, the thin-lipped mouth turned downwards into a scowl, the eyes narrowing to mere slits and a growl coming from the throat. The paper was slowly crushed between those thin, graceful fingers, crumpling under the steadily increasing and unnecessarily violent pressure.

The girl stopped suddenly, looking at her hand from her narrowed eyes. The paper, once so perfectly black and white, was now stained red by the blood that had welled up from the fingernail-shaped wounds in the palm of her hands. With a disgusted snort, she tossed the paper away, eyes remaining in their threateningly vicious state as she wandered to an old, still partially leafy tree, leaning against its shadowed side and glaring up at the sun that had taken away such a perfectly good storm, then dared to show its face in the sky once more. Slowly, the stragglers from the school filed out, talking and laughing and generally having a good time, paying no mind to the girl that blended with the shade of the tree, her eyes blazing in what seemed to be their own light.

Even with the volume turned all the way up, she couldn't drown out those voices. She grit her teeth as she was forced to listen to the group that passed the tree, their high-pitched laughter grating on her already frayed nerves.

"Oh my _Gawd_! Can you, like, believe that this is, like, the LAST day of school?" One asked. Obviously this was a group of trendy girls, and the absolutely horrifying mangled mess that was their language made them possible cheerleaders, as well. The girl clenched her fingers, the wounds on her hand beginning to run down her hand to drip small droplets of blood on her shoes. She didn't notice.

"I _know_! Isn't it just, like, _wonderful_?" gushed another one.

"Yeah, and the graduation is _tonight_!" said the third, "That's so, like, awesome! We don't even have to wait a week to get our diplomas!"

"Wonder who the Valedictorian is gonna be?" said the second in a musing tone.

"It could be _Derek_!" squealed the first.

"Oh my _gawd_, he is, like, _so hot_!" they all squealed together, their high-pitched sounds seeming so much like screaming pigs that the girl by the tree expected someone to come investigate why people were murdering pork at any time. Of course, this didn't happen, and to her great relief the voices were soon drowned out by a new, louder track that she liked coming in from her CD player. She unclenched her hands, finally noticing the pain that was emanating from her mangled hand.

She brought the offending limb up to her face, sighing as she looked at it and letting her narrowed glare relax for a moment before she remembered the tittering of the normally mindless girls. With an almost soundless snarl, she pushed off from the tree, looking up at the sun that was still relatively high in the sky and snorting before heading off in a direction that she knew well. Around her there seemed to be a hushed silence, as if even the birds were afraid of sounding their songs in the presence of the girl. She paid no mind to the silence, instead listening to the end of the song, letting her mind drift into the melody and forgetting the events of the day.

Her large and slightly blood stained boots hit the pavement with a disturbing lack of sound, her stride long and purposeful as the track continued on. She didn't even have to look at the streets, or take notice of the surroundings. Her feet knew the way to where she was going well enough, by now. She had been taking this same road every day she could for years, always the same way. The people on her path never bothered her, nor did she give them a reason to. In all the years she had come through, she had never spoken to one person that passed her, had never even given any hint that she had seen them at all.

But she saw it all. It was part of her training, after all, to see all without giving any hint that she was watching. It had been easy enough for her to master it.

_Filthy waste_, she thought absentmindedly as she passed a woman that was yelling at her young son with no mind to his frightened trembling, _disgusting creatures. Why was the earth cursed to harbor such refuse as this? Seeing the infestation sickens me to no end…_

Finally, her destination came into sight, and she cut her thoughts short as she gazed in some semblance of respect at the old, broken down building. The walls, ancient and chipped so much that the surface was transformed into a demented jigsaw mosaic of irregular tiles and missing pieces. The windows, once holding glass but no longer, were boarded up tightly, with a few stripes of graffiti here and there splashing color on the wood. It was the door that was the most normal of all, tall and straight and made of a thick steel, the window on the front –glass still miraculously intact- covered and protected by an iron mesh. The decrepit path leading up to the building had entire panels of pavement missing, and only a few sparse weeds were struggling to grow in the grayish dirt near the walls, pushing up from the flakes of stone that had come off from the surface.

Above the door, hanging on by only the most strained of nails, was a large, faded wooden sign that read 'Hector's Weapon's Galore'.

The door creaked ominously as she pushed it open, the hinges old and almost rusted away completely. The inside of the building gave much the same atmosphere as the outside; a single, dim and flickering light bulb illuminated the rows and rows of cracked glass cases feebly, and the floor was dusty and covered in the corpses of various insects. Yet even this dim atmosphere could not dull the glint of the dozens of weapons in the cases, and their cold steel edges glinted brightly and ominously behind the walls of their individual prisons, patiently awaiting the day when they would burst out and be used. The blades practically begged for bloodshed, and it was a call that the girl regretted not answering. They were all so beautiful…

"I almost thought that you might not come today, Oracle," rasped a harsh, croaking voice that seemed distinctly like a toad. The girl's eyes flicked upwards towards the counter, seeing the dark silhouette of a bent, ancient man sitting there, large eyeglasses flashing in the reflection of the light, "I'm glad you have."

"Why, old man?" Oracle asked, her voice hard and nearly emotionless despite its soft tone, "Today is just another day for a lesson. I was hoping I could use the Glaive again."

"So you shall, girl," the old man said, glasses flashing as he lifted up a moderately large, wicked looking weapon. The blades were curved in opposite directions, so that the entire weapon was reminiscent of a letter S in shape. The shaft between the two blades was short, only about the width of a hand, and in the low light its true color was impossible to distinguish, though like all the blades in the shop it shone with a life and beauty all its own

The man tossed it at the girl, and her hand whipped out with ease, firmly grasping the shaft and pulling the weapon towards her. Carefully she took her CD player and clipped it onto her belt so that she could get a full look at the object. Bloodstained fingers ran lovingly over the edges of the blades, putting just enough pressure to feel the sharpness but not be cut. Quickly, though, Oracle pulled her fingers back, looking in mild surprise at the ends of her digits that were bleeding in small, clean lines. The blades were sharper than she had thought, sharper than those of any weapon she had before used in this place.

"This is new," she commented impassively.

"It is yours," the man said. Oracle looked up suspiciously, and the man let a small chuckle escape him, making his shadow shake slightly. He stood, and his gray, wrinkled features came into the light slightly before he retreated back further into the shadows, "Come with me. There is more."

Oracle followed the shadow deeper into the dark depths of the weapons shop, her tread as silent as the atmosphere around them; the only sound in the silence the old man's ragged breathing and his shuffling step. There was a sudden rattling of keys, and a scream of tortured metal as another, older door was opened.

The room beyond was lit much as the first had been, but it was much larger and clearer, with the middle being a flat area with a large circle inscribed on the floor in faded white paint. Along the wall, in unbroken, pristine cases, were several examples of ancient weapons, many from a time far before even the old man's day. These weapons; Oracle could almost hear their stories as they cried them out, cried of times of glory and bloodshed and fallen warriors and a brutality like none ever seen before. They called to her inner animal, brought out her true soul and accepted it for what it was, embraced her in a vicious song of death and redemption.

"Here," the old man said harshly, breaking her thoughts and turning her attention to an old case near the back. He pulled out a strange weapon, one that she had only heard of before and never actually seen.

The plain shaft was long, almost as long as a full-grown person was tall, and made of a substance that looked like metal, but didn't shine at all. In fact, it seemed to absorb the light completely into a blackness deeper than night. At the very end of the weapon, sweeping gracefully to either side in a perfect, lethal arc, was a single curved blade, tapered to a point on both ends and looking much like the sweeping wings of the manta ray. The blades glinted in the low light, and suddenly the girl saw that they were made of pure obsidian, and honed to alarming sharpness.

The blade spoke to her of thousands of battles, of thousands of lives taken by its own form. It sang of the glory of feeling its edges sink deep into the vitals of another, cutting off life, rending the soul in two.

"A Pendulum Scythe," the old man said matter-of-factly, "especially rare these days…" those spectacles eyes rose to meet hers, and Oracle nodded slowly in agreement with the unspoken request. She knew this day was coming, in fact had felt it fast approaching for a long while now.

The old man took his place on the other side of the faded circle, and Oracle pulled out her newly made Glaive, twirling it leisurely in her fingers as a fitting track began playing through her headphones.

_I'm feeling crossed  
I take it inside  
Burn up the pain  
My thoughts are strange  
Just like the things  
I used to love  
Just like the tree that fell  
I heard it  
If art is still inside  
I feel it_

Suddenly, he was moving, moving much faster than a man of his considerable age should ever have been able to, and the pendulum blade whistled through the air, its joy at impending bloodshed clear. Oracle jumped back, narrowly avoiding a slash to her midsection that would have instantly gutted her right then and there. With a growl she bared her teeth in a challenging gesture, flipping her Glaive up to parry the returning sweep and grunting as the force of the ancient weapon bearing down upon her made her feet slide back slightly on the dusty, termite eaten floor. Sparks flew from the clash, framing her intensely concentrated face in the fireflies of conflict.

_I wanna bleed  
Show the world all that I have inside  
I wanna scream  
Let the blood flow that keeps me alive_

Oracle twisted the glaive, forcing the scythe blade up and away from her as she darted in, aiming a fatal strike directly at the man's gut. Suddenly, her blades were knocked aside by another blade, a long dagger, to be precise, and she was forced to retreat as the pendulum began to advance in a way that would block off escape.

_Fuck!_ She thought, _I should've known he'd have more than one blade!_

_Take all these strings  
They call my veins  
Wrap them around  
Every fucking thing_

_Presence of people  
Not for me  
Well I must remain in tune  
Forever  
My love is music  
I will marry melody _

I wanna bleed  
Show the world all that I have inside  
I wanna scream  
Let the blood flow that keeps me alive

Oracle narrowed her eyes as a long, wide slash caught her a glancing blow in the arm, causing a long and bloody gash to open up. Fortunately, it wasn't deep, nor was it too serious or painful. She surprised the old man by following the sweeping swing of his scythe, knocking away his second blade and seriously wounding his upper arm with the razor-sharp edges of the glaive. The dagger hit the floor with a sharp clunk from his nerveless fingers, and Oracle ducked and rolled away as the scythe came around again in a powerful return sweep. It very nearly caught the wire that connected her headphones to her CD player, and she snarled openly at that, her back arching up like an angered cat and her eyes narrowing dangerously as the wind from the near-miss ruffled her hair. The next strike of the pendulum she parried easily, and her arm darted out like lightning, catching the plain black shaft and jerking it back out of the old man's grasp. The ancient weapon gave a cry of despair as it clattered to the floor behind the girl, and the old man fumbled for the dagger on the floor, one arm flapping useless against his side and a flower of red slowly spreading on his shirt shoulder.

It was a simple thing to approach and kick the dagger away, and as the man gave a small gasp of defeat Oracle used the blade of the glaive to lift his head up, the spectacled eyes meeting her own, cold gaze.

"You've done well," he rasped, "I have nothing more to teach you."

_Won't you let me take you  
For a ride  
You can stop the world  
Try to change my mind  
Won't you let me show you  
How it feels  
You can stop the world  
But you won't change me _

I need music  
I need music  
I need music to set me free  
To let me bleed

"Then you know what I'll do now," Oracle said flatly, her eyes blazing as she glared in a mix of disgust and respect at the old man. He had taught her well, almost too well. She was lucky to have found such a useful tool to help her with her mission so early in her life, otherwise she would have had to wait for a much longer time to start her work. Even so, he was weak, he was pitiful… he was expendable. The man nodded as much as the blade under his throat would allow.

"This place is yours," he said quietly, his raspy voice strained but soft at the same time, "I wish you luck."

"Luck has nothing to do with it, old man," Oracle snorted, "But thank you for the thought."

With that, she shoved her arm forward, and the razor-sharp end of the blade, the edge that had been crying to taste life ever since she had first held it, sliced into the old man's neck cleanly. Blood sprayed over her arm in a crimson torrent, staining the pale rose of her skin much like the artist splatters paint on a clean tapestry. Oracle watched impassively as the man's head lolled back, the extremity almost rolling clean off the torso if it hadn't been held on the neck by a thin strip of flesh and the unbroken spinal column.

"Might makes right," she whispered stonily, repeating the last line of her personal mantra and the driving force behind her mission.

She stepped back, ripping the joyfully singing blade out of the neck and frowning as the lifeless corpse fell forward, hitting the floor before her with a wet thump as a steadily growing pool of red appeared around it. She looked at it for a moment, and then tranquilly walked over to the other weapons, picking them up off the floor and bringing them with her to a hidden corner of the training room, where a large sink was set into the wall with several buffing cloths set around it on hooks and a chair to sit in placed in front of it. The girl calmly used the buffing cloths to clean off the blades of the various weapons, afterwards standing and striding to set each object in its respective place. She gazed appraisingly at the other weapons, gauging each one in its turn as she walked around the training room –_her_ new training room- careful not to step in any of the growling puddles of blood spreading across the floor.

_Smart old man_, she thought as she saw the hidden channels in the floor directing the liquid down into a drain near the sink corner. The room would be simple to clean after she disposed of the body; all she would need to do was hose it down and it would be as it was before, if a bit less dusty.

As she walked past the place where the pendulum scythe rested, however, another glint of metal caught her eye. She moved to look at it, running her fingers over the glass and murmuring to herself past the music blaring through her headphones. The glaive resting in her left hand practically shivered as this new weapon sang its own song of death, a beautifully intricate and alluring melody that could not be drowned out by the music of her headphones.

Oracle walked back to the mangled corpse, curling her lip in disgust at the reminder of the man's weakness as she took the keys out of the pocket, kicking the body and ignoring the everlasting stare of those milky, lifeless eyes before walking back to the case without a backward glance. The keys, dripping with freshly spilled blood, clicked into the lock, and Oracle threw the panel open, revealing the dangerous-looking 'gauntlet'. She lifted it lovingly from the display, fitting it on her left arm and flexing her fingers.

It was as if it was meant for her to find.

The fingers of the gauntlet were made of interlocking plates, much like armor, but unlike armor these only covered the top of the finger, with small bands like on a ring to keep them in place. These five finger plates all had sharp spikes coming from the top of each joint, and at the end of each finger the metal came forward into a curved point, like the claw of a large cat. These points were sharp, and as Oracle transferred her glaive to her right hand so that she could inspect the glove more closely, the points scratched two bloody lines on the back of her hand. She grunted and ignored it, looking at the back of the gauntlet.

The five fingers and their interlocking plates were all connected to the back of the hand by a series of incredibly strong metal wires, jointed in a complex webwork so that they fit the contours of the hand and moved with them. Connected to this was a band that went around the wrist, able to be opened and closed by a simple lock much like a primitive type of handcuff. Oracle let a smile grace her usually prone lips as she bent her wrist, feeling the metal flex.

But suddenly, a ring from the front alerted her, and she swore softly as she quickly took the keys out of the display case lock and ran out of the room, closing and locking the door behind her and approaching the front desk. There was a dirty, middle-aged man staring at the gun racks, his hand rising thoughtfully to his bearded face as he considered the weapons. Oracle nearly gagged with disgust as she took her place behind the counter, watching the man out of the corner of her eyes.

_Such a weak, typical human bastard_, she thought with contempt, _using firearms takes no talent at all. Just another fucking jock in a world where image is everything. I ought to blow his brains out with the gun he chooses… that'd be fun._

"Hey, girl," the man boomed, looking over to her. Oracle grit her teeth and tried to look attentive; she didn't need any investigations of this place quite yet, not when she just got it, "What happened to Hector? He always works front desk."

"He has some more pressing business, so I'm filling in for him for today," Oracle lied smoothly, fighting to keep her voice pleasant, "What can I help you with, sir?"

"Hmm, that's strange," mused the man, "Well, I'm just looking for a good, solid shot without much hassle, y'know? I mean, my friend's taking me hunting up in the country in a few weeks, and I need to get something quick, preferably at a fair price."

Oracle looked as if she was considering, inwardly cursing in every way she knew how. Another moment of having to listen to, _to look at_, this ignorant, human-like man and she would do something that she knew would be foolish, at best.

"Hmm, I suggest the custom magnum, sir. It has good range, stays on a straight course, and keeps up a good appearance. It looks much more expensive than it actually is."

The man turned to look, and Oracle concentrated on her already blaring music, calming herself. She didn't need to ruin anything tonight, not when she had had such a good day so far.

"You're right, girl," the man said, surprised, "I'll take it!"

_Good, now go away_, thought the girl, her still gauntleted hand digging into the wood of the counter. She rang up the price even before the man had walked up to the counter, and had his receipt ready and waiting. As soon as the money was handed over, she practically shoved the piece of paper in his hand.

"Wait, there, don't you want to make sure I'm regis-"

"No, no, I don't have to," said Oracle quickly, "You're all set, sir. Go have fun hunting in a few weeks, and be sure to get some good trophies, okay?"

_Because they'll probably be the last one's you'll ever get…_

"Okay, if you're sure," the man said uncertainly, "But… since when did Hector get another person to work for him? I thought this was just _his_ business?"

"I'm a student," said Oracle, "He just lets me help out sometimes."

"He teaches?"

_God, will he never shut up?_

"Weapons and combat," said Oracle with a decidedly forced smile, "Now, I think it's getting late, and I need to close up, so…"

"Oh, right," said the man, walking towards the door. He paused right before he went out, "Have a good evening, girl."

"Thanks," Oracle almost hissed. The door closed, and she quickly flipped the sign in the window from 'open' to 'closed', locking the door with the still bloody keys before she went back to the counter. The orange-haired girl sighed in relief, running a tired hand through her hair, but stopped short as she saw the dark red stains of blood all over her pale arm. She looked down at herself, her eyes growling progressively wider as she realized that she was still covered from head to toe in blood, most of which was not her own. The shadows probably had hidden most of it, but she could never be sure…

"Fuck," she spat.

* * *

_Song: Bleed  
Artist: Cold  
Author's personal feelings about the song: I love it like I love peanut butter._


	2. The Sickness

_Wow, someone reviewed AND faved this story. I feel so... excited. People like my madness...  
Glad you like my disclaimer, SeldomSorrow. Heh, I tend to say some fucked-up shit sometimes..._

_Ooooh, another disclaimer for readers who haven't gotten it yet!  
I may have red hair, I may tend to draw and write disturbing, violent stories with hidden deep messages, but I am female, and therefore I ain't Jhonen. So I don't own JTHM, Squee, or IFS._

* * *

Bright, hot lights filtered down from the ceiling, the burning rays revealing every stray dust mite or fleck of hair floating in the stuffy, noisy room. A fly, attracted by the warmth of the brightness, buzzed upwards, hitting mindlessly against the lights for a few moments, unknowing of the searing heat until its wings melted and it stuck to the surface, burning and sizzling to death as it made more futile attempts to buzz into the light. After what seemed like far too long, it fell motionless, never to fly again.

Far below, oblivious to the life or death struggles of the insects above, the sea flowed once again perfectly, every person breaking off in their groups and sitting in their places like automatons programmed to do so. In a way, they were insects as well, mindless and unthinking in their actions. Though, unlike insects, through headphones the noise they made was deafening, and the noise even closer to the girl is what made her bristle in an attempt not to kill every person near her.

_Can't they at least be quiet?_ She asked herself, newly clothed in black graduation robes that she really, really wanted to rip apart. Every person around her was garbed the same way, but unlike her they seemed to be happy about it, unreasonably happy. She felt constricted, trapped. The sea flowed around her in a never-ending current, and she felt as if she was drowning. She couldn't even make out the words of her songs anymore, no matter how hard she listened.

And this wasn't even the beginning of the ceremony, yet.

Dull, bland music more fitting to a funeral march than a graduation played on the loudspeakers, and with a snarl of disgust Oracle was caught up in the flow of the students around her, forced to move forward at that slow, respectful, annoying pace that characterized this type of event. The music had only one good effect, and that was that everyone around her fell silent, allowing her headphones to be heard above the horrible tune. Desperately Oracle clutched at the familiar beats with her mind, feeling her tense arms begin to relax slightly as the feeling of being trapped faded by increments. She could get out soon; all she had to do was be patient. Then, she would never have to deal with any of the people here tonight again, ever.

She would make sure of it.

She didn't even listen to the noise that the teachers made, sitting up on their podium and announcing the name of every person coming in. Instead, Oracle focused on watching and absorbing the surroundings that were familiar but hated. The same, creamy off-white walls that were as featureless as the many faces in the crowd rose far above her head, helping to amplify the dull roar of sounds that the people below made as they whispered and tittered to one another in their hopeless social game. The seats that the crowd was sitting in were made of a horrible, puke-green material, clashing with the walls and the blue carpet in a way that screamed 'budget cut' to even the deafest of ears.

The podium was the worst. Painted white and navy blue, the colors of the school, it seemed like some giant, demented cry for help. Oracle shuddered as she looked at it, seeing the teachers all smiling happily as they sat on the raised stage, oblivious to anything else around them. This ceremony was old, to them; they went to it every year and had seen thousands of students come and go.

_Tonight, you just might get a surprise_, Oracle thought with a mental smile, wishing that she could pull out the glaive that was now sheathed and hidden under her blood red shirt, clipped to the back of her belt.

All the graduating students filed past, sitting at their spaces like the good little mindless drones they were. Oracle tensed her hand, trying not to dig her fingernails into her already mangled and tender flesh as she sat in a spot, flanked by two people that she didn't know at all and hated on sight, as one was obviously a drooling moron and the other was some girl that looked like one of the cheerleaders she had seen earlier. She certainly talked like it, and Oracle narrowed her eyes, wishing that she could turn up her CD player even further than the maximum level of sound she now had. She would gladly go deaf if it meant that she didn't have to listen to the people around her, especially the tittering moron.

"Now, our Valedictorian has some words of wisdom she would like to impart on the graduating students!" the speakers blared. Oracle groaned with a silent curse as she suddenly remembered the words of the paper that had been handed to her by her teacher earlier that day, "Oracle F., could you please approach the podium?"

There was a muffled gasp, audible through the music, as Oracle forced herself to stand, her eyes daring anyone to talk as she made her way to the stage. She would never know how she had managed to become the top student of the school, as she never once had listened to lectures or turned in any work in class. The rest of the school must have been even more of a bunch of idiots than she had ever guessed, not that that was surprising. Oracle let out a long breath as she finally reached the gaudy stand, the lights directly above her throwing deep shadows on her eyes and making the contrast between light and dark seem almost artistic. Her orange hair blazed like living fire as she spoke.

"I won't say anything until I have my diploma," she said quietly but firmly, lifting her head just enough so that her eyes flashed. The speaker, seeming a bit surprised and nervous, stammered something to the teachers. They murmured among themselves for a few tense moments, and then, easier than Oracle would have believed possible for such uptight people, she was being handed her diploma. There was a sparse clapping from the audience that a quick and vicious glare promptly eliminated as the girl prepared to speak.

"I hated this place," she said simply and emotionlessly, shoving the diploma into her back pocket, right next to the hidden glaive, "I hated the people in it and the morons that surrounded me while I was here. I still hate them –you- but now I won't have to deal with all you dumb fucks anymore. I'll see you all in hell, preferably where I can torture you eternally."

With that, Oracle walked off the stage in utter silence, aware of all the eyes on her as she strode straight past her seat and up the aisle that she had so recently walked down. It seemed so much longer now, as if every movement was being made in slow motion. Oracle passed the frozen janitor, promptly and silently stealing the keys hanging from his belt and opening the door, slamming it behind her with a sudden and loud crash. Instantly she turned, locking the thick doors firmly behind herself to prevent being followed and walking calmly to the other pair, locking that as well.

As soon as that was done, the girl turned and strode out of the lobby and into the clear evening air of the outside, making her way all around the building and firmly locking all of the escape exits. As she turned back from the last one, Oracle sighed heavily, lifting her face to the cool evening breeze that was playing across the landscape. The sun was still above the horizon, though it might not be for long. She would need to act quickly if she wanted to enjoy the sunset. Yes, the sunset. She had always loved the colors, the pure sights, sounds, smells. The knowledge that the sun was leaving the sky and letting the moon, the cold, blank reflection of light that was so beautiful in its own way, rule the heavens for another few hours.

That moment could stretch into eternity.

Oracle ripped the flowing robes off her lithe frame, throwing the black, uncomfortable things into the fading evening shadows. She didn't want those things on her anymore, couldn't stand the feel of the constricting symbols of humanity brushing against her flesh. They fluttered to the ground, tattered remains of a life that could have been, and Oracle dug one bloodstained boot into the corner of the material disdainfully, grinding it into the ground as she whirled on her heel and made her way back along the shadowed wall.

In the rapidly deepening darkness, her eyes caught the light as she snapped her head up, glowing with a fiery expression that was not rage, but something akin to the destructive force of a wild inferno when it is balked for a mere moment against its wishes. Those predatory eyes roved over the dark contours of the land, searching for something that had made the small noise that she had somehow heard over the roaring beat of her headphones. In a way, those headphones had given her the hearing of an animal, able to pick out those noises that didn't belong over those that did, even with background interference.

There was nothing at the moment, and Oracle glared for a instant longer into the darkness before she lengthened her stride purposefully, slipping back into the lobby of the school auditorium and striding past the din emanating beyond the thick doorways that, even closed, let through a moderately loud roar. Oracle shook her head in exasperation as her footsteps clumped almost silently through the darkened halls, the surroundings pitched into a fairly deep shadow by the unlit lights above. Far in the distance, large glass double doors let in a faded orange light, and Oracle upped the pace. She needed to hurry even more if she wanted to catch the sunset, especially if she wanted to catch it in the park, where she would have a good view while listening to her music.

Absentmindedly, the girl scratched her shoulder, and she sighed inaudibly as a few dried flakes of blood came off her already blood red shirt. She hadn't had time to clean it properly after she had closed up the shop, and by the time she had gotten home all she could do was clean off her skin before she had to put on the robes and walk to the school. Her parents had tried to come with her, but she had locked the door behind her and took the keys. The idiots were always trying to do things with her, get her to be social with other disgustingly happy people and talk to them instead of ignoring them.

They had been nagging at her for years upon years, even before she had found the headphones and learned the power of music. She would have killed them several times over by now, if she hadn't needed them for money. In fact, Oracle still had about fifty dollars left in her pocket from the morning, when she had managed to steal some stray bills from her mother's wallet yet again. Her parents knew she did this, but they had too much hope to care; they thought that their daughter would eventually come around and be like them, be 'normal'.

_Fools, just like all the rest_, Oracle thought, reaching her destination. The large, main control box loomed over her, a menacing presence if not for the fact that it was nothing but a metal container set into the wall, _The pinnacle of humanity, based on social communication and love. Hah! Love is meaningless, just like understanding and sympathy. If they could truly see then they would have learned long ago that the human race is a farce! Hunger, greed, lust, power, all those things hidden under a shell of so-called 'love' and 'feeling'. They've forgotten the truth, or maybe those that haven't just choose not to see it… We are not above; we are not better or more advanced than those things we call 'animals'. We are animals in ourselves, but so much less than that. We are a disease, spreading a sickness on this planet around us. That sickness… it needs to be isolated, contained, and then, finally…_

Oracle threw open the control box door, the stolen janitor keys clinking harshly against the wall. After a few moments of searching, as the low light of the hallway made it more difficult for her to read, she found what she was looking for. A small, decidedly dark smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and her eyes narrowed as she threw the switch. There was an instant of silence, and then, from the vents overhead, a small, almost indecipherable hissing began.

_It must be eradicated_, she finished her thought, walking back down the long hallway towards where she had come from, pausing only slightly as she listened to the oblivious din through the auditorium before she looked up at the few white neon lights above, smiling at the moths that fluttered uselessly against the glass, small frames silhouetted by the brightness that caused faded red dots to appear in the girls vision after she finally looked down again. With a shrug, she threw open the doors and made her way to the deserted sidewalk, noticing the many cars parked all over. Cars that, soon, would have no owners left to drive them.

She passed them all, so gaudy and useless where a simple pair of legs could easily get anyone where they wanted to go, provided that that person was willing to work for it. Oracle had never wanted a car, no matter how much her parents had tried to get her to want one. They told her that it was normal to want a car. They asked her if she wanted to be normal, like them.

"No," she lipped, no sound coming from her lips. The girl turned slightly, looking back over her shoulder at the quiet, shadowed school building. She couldn't hear anything, but she knew that was just the distance. The auditorium was a large place; it would take time for the gas to fill it. Probably near the end of the ceremony the people would begin to feel weak… by the time they found out that the doors were locked, it would already be too late to even scream for most of them. Her eyes were cold and emotionless as she turned back, "I don't want to be like you. I don't want to be the disease…"

_I want to be the cure_, She thought silently, fading into the lengthening shadows of the trees that grew alongside the road. She looked up after a long while from the pavement and her silent absorption of music as she walked a path she knew by heart, a cold wind blowing past her and chilling the skin on her arms, a few stray leaves and advertisements rustling around her in the moving air. A long strand of her orange hair blew over her shoulder, and impatiently she thrust it back in place, the movement making her glance upwards at the sun and see exactly how close it was to setting.

Oracle let out a long breath and lengthened her strides, the tall shadows of the skeletal trees appearing over the hill before her. Slowly, the path she walked became rough and gravelly, and all the stones soon disappeared in favor of smooth dirt. The soles of her boots, quiet on pavement, became eerily silent in this, Oracle's element. As the constraints of human civilization disappeared into the night behind her, Oracle began to relax, the tense muscles in her back unwinding and her posture straightening up from the threatening half-crouch to a normal walk. Soon, the path became an upward climb, one so steep that most people declined walking in favor of other transportation, like bikes or, sometimes even despite the fact that it was illegal, cars.

The sun was very nearly touching the earth as she finally emerged from the arch of trees into the clear air, standing on the edge of a high cliff overlooking the city below that was just starting to light up in the fading brightness. A single, leafless and lonely tree grew close to the edge of the abyss, its only companion a small sign, about a third of the tree's height, which read in clear, bold letters 'No parking'. Around the edge, perhaps to keep foolish people from either falling or jumping, a length of old, rustic fence made up of irregularly shaped boards and a single length of wire framed the scene.

Oracle smiled, a rare, true smile that she only gave life to when no others were present, and walked casually to the small skeleton of vegetation, putting her hand on the old, rough bark before looking out towards the setting sun, golden yellow eyes reflecting the fiery crimson color of the sinking orb as she leaned against the tree. Oracle slowly sank down until she was sitting on the ground, her face blank as she simply took in all that was, letting the music blaring through her ears immortalize the moment, as it had for so many other moments in her memory.

The sun lowered itself slowly into the earth, looking as if it would collide with the world but somehow being as insubstantial as air as it passed through, the colors that shot from its magnificence reflecting that of the rainbow as they reached high into the sky, their dark edges barely revealing the beginning of a clear, starry night. Oracle took her eyes off the sunset for a moment, looking up into the cold depths of space and mentally smiling. The stars were cold, lifeless, but filled with a type of brilliance all their own. They cared nothing for life, or death, or anything for that matter. They burned with spirit yet had none of their own, they shone in the darkness yet knew nothing of light.

_Light and dark are really the same_, Oracle thought slowly, feeling in a philosophical mood, _Without one, the other cannot exist, and so both must be present or there will be nothing, nothing at all. Really, what happens when there is no light or darkness? Does everything turn gray? Or does the universe collapse in on itself? What defines light and dark, anyway? _

"People would say I'm a monster for what I do," she mouthed silently, her thoughts doing a u-turn back to the planet, "But what defines a monster? I do what I do because I believe in it, and they do what they do because _they_ believe in it. How is that so different? We all have our dreams, after all… and I can have no regrets."

_Feel no mercy, feel no pain, Oracle,_ she thought to herself; _this is what you were meant to do. Might makes right, remember?_

"I remember," she mouthed, her eyes hardening into a mask of expressionless-ness as she nodded, "Feel no mercy, feel no pain; let the animal inside go free; might makes right. I was born to do this, and I _will_ finish it. When the last human is wiped out of existence, I will revel in the absence of humanity… but even then, the work will be unfinished. Because when I kill the last human…"

_I'll still be left._

Suddenly, there was a rumble of a motor, and Oracle jumped up from her place in surprise and shock at being snapped out of her train of thought, the CD on her belt skipping and making her snarl in anger as she ran to hide. From the wider path through the trees, twin beams of light shot into the sky before the owner came into the clearing, the noise intensifying and then fading into a quiet rumble as the vehicle rolled through two established ruts and parked quietly right next to the sign by the tree. Oracle, from her hiding spot near the path she had come up the cliff by, rolled her eyes and focused on the car.

The car was squat, much like the type of cars generally referred to as 'bugs', and the antenna was topped off with an absurd 'smiley' face that didn't have a smile, but had a strange blank look. The car was obviously a Junker, but a good one nonetheless, and modest enough not to draw too much attention to it, not like many others that the girl had seen in her life. As she watched, the driver side door opened with a rusty squeak, and a thin, decrepit form slunk out. Oracle narrowed her eyes to focus better, as already the last line of the sun had sank beyond the horizon and the moon, though full, was poor light compared to the brilliance that she had recently been staring at.

The man –she wasn't certain how old he was, but he looked barely any older than herself- was almost frighteningly thin, and his manner was unassuming, though Oracle had a nagging thought at the back of her mind that there was something different, here. She studied him from head to toe, from the stylish boots that reached up to his knees and had several silver buckles on them -the girl instantly wished to know where they were made-, from the ragged, striped, short-sleeved shirt and spidery, gloved fingers that gripped and old, battered, and stained book.

But it was the eyes that made her pause, because though they were partially covered under dark and obviously sleep deprived lids, the depths that she saw there were so… sad. Normally, such sadness wouldn't make the girl hesitate at all, but under that sadness was something else, something that glinted even now, in this place. There was anger, a fierce will, and a slightly insane shadow that threatened to explode outward at any time, at the slightest aggravation. But even beyond these there was pain, a pure, soul-rending agony that sucked all the joy –if there had been any joy- out of the surroundings. Those eyes were something she had never before encountered in her life, and they intrigued her.

And faintly, ever so faintly, she could hear beyond her softly playing music a singing of an entirely different kind. It was a melody of death that was echoed and twined about by the object hidden under her bloodstained shirt.

As the slight, almost imperceptible noise of a pen scratching echoed in the relative silence, Oracle turned away from the man that was now writing in what seemed to be the journal of some sort that he had brought with him, his antenna-like hair being moved by the light breeze that had just sprang up as he sat on the hood of his car. She knew when others deserved to be alone, and something about this person, whoever he was, told her that he _needed_ to be secluded. Her bloodstained boots silently tread on the soft, packed loam as she departed, not giving any hint that she had been there at all besides the faint, barely visible depressions made by her feet.

She was heading home.

But somehow, she knew that this wasn't going to be the last time she saw that mysterious figure.

* * *

_Yay! Foreshadowing!_


	3. The Proposal

_Hmmmm...  
(stares at single review for story)  
..._

_How sad..._

* * *

The stars above twinkled coldly, obliviously, to the world so far below. In the darkness, the denizens of the night trod on silent feet and wings, the trees reached up longingly to the sky in the hopes that the life-giving sun may grace them with its warmth once again, and in the city, life went on as normal for those people who made the night their own, be them merely the nocturnal breed of human or the ones of darker mind.

Oracle walked a well-trodden road, familiar and hated at the same time. No one on the dark road spoke to her, no one dared to speak with the imposing teen since the last time, when Oracle had promptly ground a rather distasteful individual into the ground, leaving him with several broken bones and worse. Now, people kept in the shadows when the orange-haired form walked past, as they were doing now.

Oracle walked through this hush unperturbed, her silent boots beating a regular pattern on the concrete below and her eyes flashing ominously every time a car drove past, the lights reflecting off from her strange orbs. Her mind was withdrawn into itself so much that she never noticed anything, thinking about the top of the hill, the sunset, the recent developments in her life, and her impending homecoming. The latter most of all, because she knew that her parents were very likely still locked in, unless they had managed to break a window to get out. But they wouldn't do that; it was too animalistic and unrefined for _them_.

Her feet suddenly turned down a small side street, heading off into the suburbs of the city and a deeper darkness than the bright neon lights and headlight-ridden roads. This was a place lit only by the occasional, ornate street lamp surrounded by an iron pike fence, a place where stray dogs never roamed the streets and everything was always as it should be. The ritzy neighborhood of the city that was never haunted by the disturbing reports of mass murder or strange events, as were the other areas…

At least, they weren't yet. Oracle was toying with some ideas to really make these 'distinguished' people get a shock.

Finally, she reached the house that was her own, characterized by the fact that it was the only one on the street that still had lights on inside; the neighbors had a thing about getting to bed at a 'reasonable' hour. The girl looked up, snorting at the overdone features. High above her, used pretty much only for decoration and storage, the spires that made the building look like an ancient Victorian castle rose into the sky, the points touching the moon and the resident bats swirling around in search of insects, their black forms only revealed when one or more of them made a swooping dive that brought them into the face of the celestial body.

The old, bloodstained boots clomped noiselessly down a perfect and pristine walkway of white marble, flanked on either side by a short brick wall and a thick hedge that was carved into the shape of various animals at intervals. Oracle brought the house key out of her pocket, the metal clinking against the other, more recently acquired ring of keys that belonged to a certain weapons shop. She jammed it into the door forcefully, throwing the hinged panel of wood open and slamming it behind her as she entered, not even caring that the carpet below her was getting scuffed by her boots or that the panels of glass on either side of the door shuddered from the force of her entrance.

"Oracle!" the shrill, nagging cry of her mother came just before the tall form strode into the room, elegant silk nightgown flowing like a ghost's robes from the thin and delicate body. The girl shuddered, trying not to listen to the voice that wheedled its way past her music and burrowed into her brain like some gigantic malignant tumor of sound, "Where in all the world have you been? We've been so worried about you, your father and I!"

"Out," she replied flatly, moving to brush past her mother and up the stairs without another word, but another tall, distinguished form blocked her, a firm hand gripping her shoulder almost painfully tight. Oracle narrowed her eyes, glaring up at her father as he glared back down at her sternly with his own deep brown gaze.

"That's not good enough this time," he said levelly, "Your mother and I have been talking, Oracle, and we've decided that we can't let you do this anymore. Either you straighten up and act like a normal human being, or don't bother coming back home at all. Our door will no longer be open to you."

"Is that so?" Oracle hid her growing glee behind a blank expression.

"You're nineteen, Oracle," said her mother shrilly, her thin arm snaking around her father's waist. The expression made Oracle try hard not to gag, and she managed to hide her reaction under a fake cough, "You should know better by now than to go gallivanting about this rough neighborhood! Something could have happened to you out there! We love you, Oracle, but we need to make sure you're kept safe. So no more going out at night, okay?"

"You know, mom, you don't make much sense," Oracle said, squirming out of her father's grip and leaning against the wall before smirking at her sadly misguided parents, "I just graduated, and like you said, I'm nineteen. That means that I really don't have to listen to _you_ at all."

Her father stuttered, mouth opening and closing like that of a fish, and her mother gasped and fell into a lady-like swoon that Oracle promptly snorted at, not even bothering to try and catch the woman before she hit the carpet hard.

"I'll be out in a few minutes," Oracle said, clomping up the stairs and leaving her parents below, still stunned and gibbering at the abominable behavior of their daughter. Oracle didn't really care; all that was on her mind was the opportunity to finally get out of this place. She smiled widely as she trod down the dark hall to her room, wondering if somehow everything that had happened on this day was meant to be. She had a place where she could stay at, freedom from school, and no more parents to have to deal with. Her life was finally taking an upward spiral!

Almost joyfully, Oracle threw open the door to her room, pausing in the doorway to look at the place –her refuge- one last time. She had spent many years in the place, this bare-walled, featureless room with hardwood floors and a small, plain bed. A single, squat dresser sat next to the bed, on top of which were several pieces of paper with various penciled shapes and creatures. Next to that, set into the wall, was a gigantic closet that held just two shirts of exactly the same make and color of the one she was wearing, and a moderately large duffel bag that Oracle had collected in case of just this situation.

With a small grin, Oracle strode into the room, snatching up the duffel bag and stuffing her shirts into the bottom, opening the drawer and doing the same with her other items of clothing and some of her more important possessions. Even with every piece of attire she owned and all of her CDs, the bag was barely half full, and Oracle looked around the room for more to pack into it. She had never owned much, besides her CD player, CDs, and various art tools that she used from time to time… with that thought; she tossed in some of her drawings and sketching pencils, as well as some batteries for her CD player. But there was nothing else left to pack besides those scant items.

_Nothing left for it now_, she thought to herself as she hefted the blue bag on her shoulder, careful not to disturb the still-running CD player as she took one final look at the room that now had a strange feeling of emptiness that it hadn't had before, _Time to get out of here._

Oracle swept out of the room, closing the door behind her out of habit, and strode down the stairs. Her parents weren't there, which was probably just as well, considering that Oracle would have no regrets about killing them if they tried to stop her; they had made the offer, after all, and she was going to leave whether they liked it or not. There was absolutely nothing tying her to this place anymore.

_Well, except for…_

With a sigh, Oracle turned on her heel and made her way towards the coat racks, fumbling about in the material before triumphantly pulling out an overly thick wallet and stripping it bare of everything, shoving what she took into her duffel bag and shrugging as she made her way out the door, which still had the key lodged firmly in the lock on the outside. The girl took the key out of the lock as she paused just outside the door, the handle still held in her limp hand as she cocked her head, as if listening to some unseen force, before she reached into the duffel bag and pulled out one of the various items she had stolen from the wallet.

Almost dramatically, Oracle swiped the match against the lighting paper, face framed by the eerie orange glow and eyes blazing with the inferno before she tossed it inside, watching the weak, sputtering flame just long enough to make sure it caught the carpet, spreading slowly like some infant virus on a path of destruction. With a snort, Oracle shoved the key back into the lock, twisting it before gently closing the door on the impending mayhem and striding calmly down the walkway, feeling happy enough to hum along with the track that had come on as she left her old life behind forever.

_Feel no mercy, feel no pain_, she thought as she hummed, closing her eyes slightly as she whirled onto the sidewalk, her feet unconsciously taking her in the direction of the only place she had left to go, _I have no regrets._

_But I _**am**_ thirsty…_

With that thought in mind, the direction of her feet took a slight detour, heading for another place that she often frequented when she had just finished a bout of training at the weapons shop. The night was deep and relatively silent around her; the only sound the faint call of crickets chirping and the dull roar of a car starting up from any one of a number of various nightclubs or dance parties that were held every night in the inner working of the city. Oracle lifted her face to the cold light of the moon as she walked, reveling in the soft intrusion of the weak illumination on her eyelids before she slowly opened them, hand moving to turn down the volume of her CD player as she listened for a repeat of the strange sound she had caught past her music.

Nothing but the sight of the cold night shadows and the whisper of the breeze could be heard, and if it was possible Oracle would have narrowed her eyes even further in suspicion as she made her way down the street. Her old neighborhood had been left far, far behind, further than even distance could account for, and only the fact that her new destination was coming into sight stopped the girl from halting to investigate the strange anomaly that had interrupted her twice in the same day.

It was a squat; square building, set on the corner of an almost deserted intersection. In appearance, it looked much like the weapons shop, except that the windows weren't boarded up and the lit sign towering on a pole high above the glass door -and also a double of it just above the entrance- was bright and vivid, reading in gigantic letters '24/7'. The inside that could be seen from the dark street through the large glass windows shone with light and color, several small racks of merchandise just crying out to be bought and consumed. From what Oracle could see, there was no one inside except for a rather bored looking clerk that was leaning against the counter, drawing something on a notepad with a pen.

Oracle pushed open the door, faintly hearing the sharp ring of the bell through her headphones and seeing the clerk straighten up from his bored position upon hearing the sound, looking at her with slight suspicion in his gaze as she ignored him to look over the racks in the store, considering the different items on the shelves. Nothing there looked particularly good, and as Oracle looked at the clock above the door, she knew that she needed to hurry if she wanted to get what she came here for before the machines were turned off

The girl made her way towards the back of the small convenience store, which really wasn't much more than five paces away from where she had been looking, before. With a smooth movement, Oracle lifted a cup from the dispenser on the back counter, considering her choices with an appraising eye as she folded her arms in contemplation. The machine before her gurgled as the contents swirled about inside, the three different colors of beverage just asking to be bought and tasted by the girl.

_Icy ham?_ Oracle asked herself with a raised eyebrow, immediately discarding that choice without even having to consider. Her eyes roved to the next; a red drink the color of fresh blood, _Cherry Doom? Hmmm… I do like cherry, and doom is always nice, but…_

Her eyes reached the last choice, and Oracle grinned an evil grin, setting her cup under it and pressing the release handle. The machine sputtered to life, yielding the soft, icy goo within to the waiting cup below, the cold of the stuff causing a small wisp of mist to wrap around the container as it touched the slightly warm sides. Oracle waited until the stuff was threatening to overflow before finally releasing the tap, slapping a plastic dome cap on the cup and whirling on her heel, aware of the clerk watching her as she flipped a straw out of the dispenser and strode up to the counter, fumbling in her pocket for the money to pay for it. Finally, she pulled out a few dollars, and handed them over to the clerk, who took them with a squinted eye before he shrugged, ringing up the total on the register.

Oracle pocketed the change he handed back to her with a cold glare of her own, making the clerk gulp nervously as a single drop of sweat appeared on his right temple, and promptly turned to go when another ring alerted her to the presence of a third entity entering the store. She paused in mid-step, aware of the clerk looking at her as her gaze froze in surprised recognition which she immediately wiped from her face, lest the other notice and grow suspicious.

Really, the tall, shadowy form that entered the convenience store didn't look as if he was paying attention to much of anything at the moment, considering his head was down and his mysterious eyes were staring blankly at his long boots as he made his way unerringly to the back of the store, to the same machine that Oracle had so recently visited. The girl stared after him for a moment in slight curiosity, then shrugged and went outside, setting her duffel bag on the sidewalk as she leaned up against the concrete wall of the store, feeling the cold of the stone seep through her shirt and into her skin. Surprisingly, the glaive that Oracle had hidden was warm against her back, as if it had gathered a life of its own from the warmth of hers.

Languidly, Oracle unwrapped the straw she held, sticking it into the cup and sipping the freezing beverage as she closed her eyes.

_Frosty Peanut isn't bad_, she commented to herself as she rolled the taste about in her mouth. It was much like peanut butter, although sharper and more defined, not to mention ice cold and probably filled with caffeine. The girl almost regretted never having tried the Brainfreezys before in all the times she had been to the store; _I'll have to try it more often_.

The door dinged as it was opened, and Oracle opened one eye, her gaze shifting over marginally as she saw the mysterious figure walk out, a Cherry Brainfreezy in his hand. Instantly, the glaive against her back became ice cold, screaming at her voicelessly, and Oracle barely held in a gasp of shock. The weapon faded from its iciness almost instantaneously, but the meaning of its sudden signal was clear, and Oracle sighed slightly in exasperation before speaking aloud.

"Hey," she said, seeing the other pause and turn slowly, his intriguing gaze lifted just enough so that he could see her and the straw of the beverage sticking almost comically out of his mouth. His eyebrow rose in a questioning manner as the girl continued, "I've seen you around, and I was wondering if you might be interested in a little… competition?"

There was a pause, where the man slowly took the straw from his mouth and rose a hand to his chin, squinting at the girl that was still leaning against the wall and looking at him from one open eye, "What do you mean?" he asked finally.

With a shrug, Oracle reached back and with a quick movement had the glaive in her hand. She brought it into the light, twirling it slowly on her fingers so that it flashed in regular intervals in the reflected light from the store windows. The man before her looked on impassively, and then resumed sucking on the Brainfreezy straw before looking at the girl strangely.

"I don't know how I know, but I have a feeling that you know how to use things like this," Oracle said flatly, taking note of just the barest twitch of the man's eyes that signaled she had been correct. She fought down a smirk at the confirmation, "I've been itching to find someone who could match me in a fight for a while now," with a movement so fast that it was a blur, she had sheathed the weapon and returned to sipping at her straw, her headphones switching over to a new track as she focused her eye on the other, "If you're interested, meet me at sunset tomorrow at the overlook. I trust you know where that is."

With that, Oracle opened her other eye and leaned down to grab her duffel bag, throwing it over her shoulder and nodding at the slightly surprised, motionless man, a grin crossing her mouth.

"Nice meeting you," she said impassively as she walked silently off into the shadows, leaving the thin silhouette behind without a second glance, "And bring as many blades as you want; I like a challenge."

The man remained motionless as he watched her go, one eyebrow raised almost into his sparse, antenna-like hair. Finally, he shrugged and headed toward where he had been going before being interrupted, namely his car. The wind picked up, blowing several stray leaves across the street in front of him and rustling his hair before he reached out to take the handle.

"That was odd," he said to himself as he paused for a moment, gaze slowly moving back furtively over his shoulder towards the shadows where the girl had disappeared. He wasn't used to having people speak to him for anything other than insults, especially now that his hair had been partially lost. In fact, he wasn't used to people speaking to him at all.

What was with that girl?

"Oh, well," he mused, sucking up the last of the Cherry Doom Brainfreezy happily, "Sounds like fun."

* * *

_Oooh, look. Tis Nny, for all you rabid Nny fans out there XD  
Next chapter is really... well, twisted.  
But I must have reviews, or I won't post it. I'm just evil like that._


	4. The Meeting

_Hehe, thanks for the new reviews. You make me happy by liking the first few chapters._

_Sapphire Dragon Trainer: Thank you very much for your kind words. They are very uplifting._

_KrysOfSorrow: I hope I can keep it up, I really do. Considering that this story really shouldn't be all THAT long (maybe about ten chapters, give or take) and I really, really want to make it as in-character and dark as possible...  
I think I can do it. I just hope the ending will be to your satisfaction.  
Thanks for thinking its going well so far.__

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Feel no mercy

Oracle sat in the darkness, staring through narrowed eyes at the rays of sunlight streaming in from the slats in the boarded windows. The shop sign still read 'closed', not that many people came into the weapons shop in the first place, but it didn't matter to the girl either way. The money she had stolen from her parent's wallet had been more than she had thought, a few thousand dollars, to be precise. She wouldn't have to worry about anything for months, and all she had left to do was accomplish her mission.

Idly, Oracle took out her glaive, admiring the blades as she twirled it like a baton. Next to her seat, on the counter, sat the glittering mass that was a gauntlet. Both were silent at the moment, content to let the girl listen to her music as it ran softly through her headphones. In this place, there was no need to make the music loud, as the building was as peaceful as the grave.

And it certainly was a grave. After Oracle had woken up in the morning, she had gone to the hidden training room where the body of her old mentor still lay and had discovered a hidden trapdoor in the highest corner of the room that had led to several old, mysterious caverns. The old man had been a crafty one, and Oracle could only guess at how many rooms were hidden beneath the shop. She had found only three, so far, besides the one she had decided to use and seal off to dispose of the body, but she could easily find more, as she hadn't really taken the time to look around. After all, she had worked in the training room for years and only just now had discovered the hidden passages within it.

_Feel no pain_

"I need more weapons," Oracle said to herself after a long silence, looking at the glaive in her hand and sighing as it started up a dark whisper of a melody in her head, "I need one more weapon," the dark melody turned more pleasant, ringing nicely in tune with her headphones.

_Like the old man, I need to do the unexpected. That was his final lesson to me before I disposed of him_, Oracle mused, standing and slipping the gauntlet onto her left hand, cracking her knuckles as she did so and sheathing the glaive with a single fluid movement. _Like him, I must have a 'knife' when one is not expected. But what sort of proverbial knife shall I take? A sword is far too large for my tastes, and an ax is much too bulky, as is the scythe and pike. Another gauntlet would only get in the way when I tried to slash with the glaive… _

_A dagger it is, then._

Oracle strode slowly to the displays and looked over the glass cases in the main room, her appraising eye running over each ornate dagger that lay among the other armaments. Sadly, they all seemed to be lacking something, and her experienced gaze picked out so many flaws for each of them that the girl was soon left mildly frustrated at the lack of suitable candidates. Almost reassuringly, the music through her headphones began playing a soothing song, and Oracle calmed marginally.

_The weapons in the main room were never all that good, which is why the old man wanted to get rid of them_, she told herself in a slow, sure tone, _so the best course is to look in the training room again. There were daggers there before; there should be a suitable one now._

_Let the animal inside go free_

The girl threw open the door to the training room, clicking the pause button on her CD player as she looked around in the darkness, finally finding the light switch and turning it on. The room lit up with the weak light from its single bulb, the weapons in the cases flashing brilliantly. Oracle ran a hand through her orange hair, sighing as she saw an entire wall covered by a display of daggers and knifes. They all looked so perfect, so beautifully lethal and ready to begin another life of bloodshed and torment in the hands of a new owner.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the glaive on her back and the gauntlet on her hand began to take up their death songs, growing in power until Oracle could have sworn that she actually was able to hear the notes outside of her own mind. Oracle wasn't certain _when_ she had begun hearing the strange notes that emanated from weapons, in the first place, and the loudness of them now that she had come to this place was strange; but she suspected that she had always been able to hear at least the whispers of the notes, and that it was the reason she was so drawn to music… The girl shrugged out of her thoughts and walked forward haltingly, keys clinking as she opened the case, throwing the glass panel door open and picking up the first dagger carelessly.

_Gods, no!_ her mind screamed as she hastily put it down, feeling the beginnings of a headache being brought on as the incredibly dissonant cord faded from her memory, being soothed over by her own weapons as their tones took on an almost apologetic note. Sighing, Oracle took a step back, deciding to look over the choices first.

Just by looks alone, she managed to eliminate over half the case. Carefully, she inspected the others by observation, standing back motionless a few feet away from the case and staring up at the glittering blades as the soft music from her CD player was put back on. For several hours she stood like this, as unmoving as a marble statue but mind active and sharp as she carefully and methodically narrowed down the possibilities by pros and cons of size, shape, and effectiveness alone.

Finally, there was but two left.

One blade was a long, flat machete, its heavy, granite-colored blade about the width of her hand and the perfect length to be strapped to her belt but still be hidden by her long shirt. The other was a curved dagger that seemed older than most of the weapons in the room, though its blade was so clean and pristine that its age was in doubt. Carefully, Oracle reached forward and took the latter in her hands, closing her eyes and concentrating as she listened to the cords that rose above and beyond her own music, letting her own weapons make the choice for her.

The harmony rose, swelled until the girl felt that her head might burst if it went on another moment, but suddenly the tune of her glaive took a quick turn, its tone clashing violently with that of the dagger. The gauntlet soon followed its partner's example, turning the music into a screaming contest that reminded Oracle of a lone wolf trying to driven from joining a pack, or even the sudden frenzy of sharks attacking a wounded brethren. Obviously, this dagger had been rejected, and Oracle set it back in its place before the pain throbbing in her temples became any worse.

She reached forward hesitantly for the machete, eyes squinting to prepare for the agony of harsh sound she was expecting, but after several minutes her eyelids rose to look at the single-edged blade normally, noting with surprise that the weapon's hilt fit perfectly and comfortably into the palm of her hand. Surprisingly, her other weapons were utterly silent, and the girl took this as some sort of indication that she should continue. The girl looked closer, inspecting the angle and balance of the weapon, and suddenly took note of an etched pattern in the blade that was so faint, so lightly engraved, that she would never have seen it if the blade hadn't flashed in the light, giving a brief glimpse of a picture.

Slowly, Oracle turned the knife in her hands, careful to keep her fingers away from the sharp edge as she brought the picture into a semblance of focus against the light. After a moment she began to puzzle out the mess of lines, separating the average wear from the image within.

_It's an eye_, she realized with shock, her own eyes widening, _an eye crying tears of blood…_

"This is my weapon," Oracle said resolutely, taking the sheath from the display and running her hand over the ancient leather, noticing the same image as that on the blade carved more intricately and clearly upon the charred flesh, with a single word written in old English letters under the strange insignia, "Dirge… A fitting name for such a blade."

_I'm ready_, Oracle thought as she fastened the sheath to her belt, slipping the machete into it. Faintly, she heard a high-pitched tune, almost like that of a flute; mix with the just beginning songs of her own weapons. The girl entertained the idea that the three were introducing each other, but snorted at her foolish fantasies and closed the case, locking it and, after she had departed from the familiar and yet strange space, the door to the training room as well. She lifted her head to gaze at the boarded windows, silently cursing as she saw the already fading light of evening streaming in through the slats. She hadn't been in the training room _that_ long, had she?

No matter, it was time to go.

_Might makes right

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_Why am I even here?_ Johnny mused to himself, nervously running his fingers over one of his many knifes and glancing up at the spectacular display of colors that the sun was perpetuating as it began its slow descent under the horizon for one more day. He sighed deeply, wondering if this had been just another joke played on him by the insufferable assholes of the world, _I shouldn't be here. I'm on a mission to become cold, not to leap into conflict with strangers on a whim!_

**Hah! I knew you couldn't resist, my boy! Just as I said, your entire being screams for input! This is just another cry for help, and a step in the right direction!**

"What the-? Reverend MEAT?" Johnny spun around from where he was sitting on the hood of his car, eyes narrowing at the all too familiar form of the Bub's Burger Boy sitting on the dashboard innocently. His eyes narrowed angrily, "I left you back home, locked in the closet! How the fuck did you get here?"

**Do you seriously think you could get rid of me that easily, Johnny? I am a PART of you! I will never be silent!**

"You will be if I MAKE you!" Johnny screamed, threatening the manifestation with his knife as he stood on the hood of his car, body arched like that of a hissing cat and eyes wide and angry. The burger toy sat smugly on the dashboard, smirking in his painted smirk and seeming to look up amusedly at the irate maniac through the curve of the windshield, "I am a slave to NOTHING, goddammit, especially not YOU!"

**YES! Give in to your anger! Feel it course through you, making your very skin flare up with hatred! Let's go out to eat!**

"NEVER!" spat Johnny, slinking around to the door and throwing it open, his form shadowed but eyes blazing in the brilliance of the sunset behind him as he grabbed the figure, holding it at arms length, though his hand was shaking with the effort not to throw the object of his rage into the abyss that was so close, "I _want_ nothing, I _need_ nothing, I _feel_ NOTHING! I am COLD, you hear me? COLD!"

"Then get a jacket," an icy, almost emotionless voice broke through Johnny's impending rant, and he froze, surprised that he had been caught unawares by the girl from before, who now stood by the spindly tree, both arms crossed over her chest and eyes shadowed by her curving orange bangs. She didn't look like she held any weapons, but as Johnny saw when she moved her arms to lean against the tree, her left hand was covered by a particularly wicked-looking gauntlet of a type he had never previously seen to his knowledge.

As he had noted before, near the 24/7, the girl still wore her thick silver and black headphones, and in the hush he could hear the faint beat of a moderately fast-paced song echoing through the still air. But now in more light, he saw other things, like the unmistakable stains of splattered blood on her boots and jean legs, and the just healing scars of several cuts on her right hand. Absentmindedly the girl raised her hand to finger the long black cord that connected the headphones to her hidden CD player. Even though Johnny couldn't see her eyes, he got the feeling that she was studying him in much the same way he was considering her.

"I see you came prepared," she said finally as her arm dropped gracefully to her side, using that same, chilling tone that conveyed no emotion whatsoever. Johnny blinked, looking down at the long, sharp-angled blade he held in his hand as if he hadn't realized he was still holding it. The girl raised her head a fraction, just enough so that the sunlight reflected off the depths of her yellow-golden eyes. Johnny raised an eyebrow as he looked into them, seeing that even with so much light pouring into those orbs, there was nothing there; no anger, no sadness, no fear, not even annoyance or surprise at finding him talking to a restaurant figurine. Suddenly remembering that the Burger toy was still clutched tightly in his hand, Johnny quickly threw it into the car, hearing a curse and a mumble echo in his head as Reverend MEAT slammed into the door on the opposite side.

"Uh… yeah," he said when it became apparent that the girl was waiting for him to reply, closing the driver's side door on his car.

"Good," the girl's eyes flicked over to the car as the door clicked shut, then to the last fading rays of light coming from the spectacular demise of the sun, "There are no rules, no restrictions. This is a true fight, so death is possible, if not probable. Do you still wish to remain?"

"Death is a normal occurrence in my life," Johnny mumbled to himself icily. The girl nodded solemnly, surprising the maniac that she had heard him, even through her headphones, and moved away from the tree, eyes flicking over again to the sunset.

"It begins when the sun goes under," she said, reaching back and unsheathing her glaive, which Johnny realized had been hidden under her shirt the whole time. To pass the tense moments as the sun slipped further and further down to its doom, he began admiring the weapon she held, noticing that it was extremely well taken care of, as was the gauntlet on her left hand. Idly, the girl began twirling the glaive like a baton, much like she had done at the 24/7, but even then her eyes never left him. Johnny fidgeted in place, beginning to become self-conscious under the scrutiny, and he turned his head slightly just in time to see the last sliver of the sun disappear beneath the distant curve of the world.

When he turned his head back, knife held at the ready to throw, she was gone.

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_Oh, yes. I happen to enjoy cliffhangers._


	5. The Clash

_Having no feedback annoys me...  
So I'm really only posting this becuase I'm bored at the moemnt and have just written up some more chapters, so I'm pretty far ahead of this point as of right now. I hope you enjoy it, and I sincerly hope that it's as in-character as possible. I mean, I know my Fan-char is and all, but... arg, you get what I mean.  
I try, that's all anyone can do._

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"What the fuck?" Oracle watched from her temporary hiding place as he turned confusedly, knife that had been so ready to be thrown clutched loosely in his hand and eyes darting around the area. Slowly, she crept around the back of the vehicle, ever watchful of the other's movements as he carefully looked all around, trying to find where the girl had gone before moving. Oracle distantly noted that he was smart to do this, but unfortunately he had failed to take into account that he was fairly vulnerable out in the open.

Not that the girl was foolish enough to come out of hiding yet, nor was she wasteful enough to risk throwing her glaive. Like a predator stalking her prey, she kept a close eye on the movements of her opponent, the music reverberating through her headphones barely audible over the whisper of the chill breeze. The time dragged on, and still neither of the two would risk moving from their positions, and soon even the last fading colors of the sunset had left the sky, the previously blue heavens being replaced with a deep black canvas littered with bright points of stars and looked down upon by the cold, impersonal face of the moon. Far below, past the cliff, the same canvas was reproduced horribly by the bright lights of the city, a mockery of the true art of nature.

Oracle moved just an inch sideways from her hiding position, her legs tensing as she judged the distance between her and her adversary. He remained unaware of her movements, back turned to her, exposing a vulnerability to the unmerciful entity that was gathering herself for a leap, her glaive and gauntlet both crying soundlessly in anticipation, both screaming so loud that the girl could barely hear herself think. But that was no matter; something ice cold began to course through her veins, blocking out any feeling, any thought beyond that of the moment, the here and now that she was trapped in. Numb to all but her animal instinct and powered by her will, she lunged, her movement eerily noiseless in the night.

Suddenly, he turned, and she managed to get one good glimpse of his face as the moonlight reflected off from his eyes, hiding the pupils and making them as cold and lifeless as her own. She was aware of a ripping pain traveling across her back as she slammed into the dirt in a defensive crouch, and soon after she felt the strangely contrasting warmth of a trickle of blood beginning to ooze down her cool skin. Behind her, there was a muffled impact as the thrown knife hit a panel of wood in the rickety fence around the cliff edge.

Ignoring the wound, Oracle snarled soundlessly, pressing forward with the speed and agility of a feline and surprising the other enough with her action to strike out with her glaive, scoring a long but shallow cut that sliced through material before connecting with the flesh of his chest. He leapt back, his swiftness unexpected, and at the same time struck out with another blade that had been hidden in his long boot. Spots of blood flew into the air as he caught the girl above her left eye, and she growled before retreating back into the shadows, rethinking her strategy. The other did not follow, instead taking up a stance by the cliff, where he knew he couldn't be attacked by surprise. Slowly, never taking his eyes off from the dark forest, he removed the first blade from the wood of the fence, holding one in each hand as his eyes searched warily for movement among the shadows.

Oracle felt the trickle of blood seeping out of both of her recently gained wounds, but like so many times in the past, she heeded them not. Instead, her intense focus was again locked on the figure standing alone in the darkness, searching eyes flicking this way and that. Cautiously, the girl adjusted her crouched position in the tree, repositioning the muscles that were silently threatening to cramp up if she did not move out of her rigid pose. Careful not to make the thick branch below her creak as she shifted her weight, Oracle rose up, standing against the solemn, quiet side of the rough-skinned denizen of the cliffside, her light-sensitive eyes picking out the details of the scene before her.

The moon was bright, making the surroundings almost as bright as an overcast evening in the moments before a black rainstorm, but in the sky the girl picked out several thick, free floating clouds slowly but surely making their way towards the light source, intent upon blocking it and throwing the world into shadow. Almost imperceptibly, Oracle smiled, her bright teeth showing up as a faint gray-white in the darkness as she waited for the perfect moment, enjoying watching her opponent fidget as he waited for an attack or opportunity that was certain to come, though he knew not when.

Gradually, so slowly that the girl was shivering with anticipation, her limbs burning as they cried to move, to spring into action and let loose all of her primal instinct to fight, the clouds began to move in front of the moon. The night deepened, turning ever more gray, and then ever more black, as the already faded color seemed to bleed out of the world to be replaced with nothing but sweet oblivion. After a long, long moment, during which the girl glared into the gloom with her sensitive eyes, she found that she could wait no longer.

There was a blur of motion, unseen and unable to be seen as she streaked across the small yet large clearing separating her and her opponent. A whistle of rapidly displaced air shot past her, fading quickly into the night with a last dying impact of metal in dirt as she swiftly covered the distance, and suddenly there was a clash and the brief sight of several weapons gleaming brightly in the weak starlight, their edges already tainted with dark, thick liquid as the sounds of conflict continued as if they would never end, both participants only able to use a mix of hearing and animal sense as they struggled in the night.

A spark fueled by the friction of metal against metal took light, illuminating the determined faces of the two for less than an instant as they glared at each other, and high above the clouds rolled nonchalantly by, blissfully unaware of their influence upon the cliff-top scene. The moon's light elucidated the edges of the wispy sky travelers, trying desperately to find a way past the obstruction to illuminate the earth below as best it could. Finally, its chance came, and its bright face brightened even more as the mass of vapor began to thin to almost nothing, presenting the celestial body with an ephemeral window onto the land.

She became aware, slowly, of being able to see more than just shadows and flashes as she dodged another lethal strike, feeling the whistle of the hungry blade miss her skin by only the narrowest of margins. At the corner of her vision, a large, sickle-shaped hook descended towards her, and she leapt back out of range, again positioned in a threatening crouch as the moon broke free from its swathe of clouds for a few brief moments, but those few moments were all the girl needed to gather the new developments in the situation. Her golden-yellow eyes flashed in the lunar brilliance, ever watchful of the panting form before her, just as she was aware of her own breath heaving from her body. A bead of sweat mixed with the blood running in a clear rivulet down her face from the cut above her eye, stinging as it connected with the broken flesh.

He was watching her coldly, though Oracle faintly glimpsed something that might have been respect glinting in the deep, muddled, but determined eyes that stared back into her own. The girl supposed that she had also gained some respect for the other, as well, for though she moved easily and showed no pain, her body was riddled with slashes and cuts that she had been unable to dodge or counter, each dripping red fluid onto the ground below her in a slow but steady rhythm that somehow matched the whisper of her music in a type of sickened harmony. Her opponent was certainly not untouched, however, seeing as even with the slightly insane glint in his eyes and his faint, even more disturbed smile, his own cloths were slashed raggedly in places and stained with the dark color of his own blood. Oracle narrowed her eyes, refusing to show any emotion –especially amusement- to the other. Instead, she brought her gauntleted hand up so that it flashed ominously in the light, flexing the red-coated fingers and glimpsing the five ragged slashes on the other's shoulder that had been caused by the weapon's lethal hooks.

At the same time, he brought up one of his knife-wielding arms, the crooked point of the weapon dripping darkly as he aimed it at the girl. In that dramatic moment, the clouds crept back upon the light-giving face of the moon once again, making the cliff-top a shadowed battlefield one more. Almost as quickly as it had halted, the fight started up again, the sound of metal crashing against metal echoing through the hushed stillness of the air, everything in the area deathly quiet as if awaiting the outcome of the conflict with bated breath.

Oracle winced as a blade bit deep into her thigh, feeling the muscle tear slightly as she moved back, forcing the metal to be ripped from her limb in a spray of blood. For a single, breathless moment after the shock of pain, she felt herself stumble, her injured limb spasming involuntarily, and through her music she could hear –feel- the second blade slice through the air, approaching her as a demon of true death, laughing melodically at her weakness. Growling with an animal rage, Oracle pulled her arm back with one swift motion, unsheathing the still hidden machete and bringing the thick, single-edged blade up just fast enough to deflect the descending specter, driving the side of her weapon hard into his hand. She heard a yelp from the other, the loudest sound that had emerged from either of the opponents in the entire course of battle, and pulled back just enough to keep out of immediate range of the other knife and gather her power before she dropped, swinging one leg out and feeling it connect hard with the back of the other's knees. There was a muffled curse as he fell to the ground, landing hard on his back, and Oracle quickly sprang into action, unwilling to let this fleeting chance at victory elude her.

She gripped his wrists, forcing his arms to stay against the ground as she pinned his legs to the earth with one boot, carefully balancing most of her weight on her injured leg but twisting the other so that he could barely move, much less struggle and knock her off balance. It was an awkward and uncomfortable way to pin an opponent, but extremely effective. The point of the glaive, which was still gripped tightly in her right hand along with the corresponding wrist of her opponent, glittered dangerously near his throat, making it impossible for him to lift his head without receiving a fatal injury. He was helpless, at her _mercy_.

Oracle snorted in barely concealed laughter, looking down dispassionately at the adversary that had done so well for himself as the moon finally broke free of the band of clouds for good, shining brightly down upon the sleeping world as if nothing had happened.

His eyes were narrowed down to slits, though the girl could still see that he was looking at her. Unlike so many of the others, those depths reflected absolutely no fear at impending death, though they still reflected everything that Oracle had found so intriguing about them in the first place. Surprisingly, even though he showed no fear, the hands that she was gripping were trembling, almost as if he was fighting to keep away from the touch.

"Might makes right," Oracle whispered with a smug look, seeing one eye widen slightly as the blade of her weapon lowered marginally, nipping at the tender flesh beneath. The blade of the glaive sang, crying for life, screaming to be fed with the blood of another victim. The girl smiled bestially; skin tingling as she felt the rush of power accompanied by becoming the seasoned predator, the rush brought about by simply being _able_ to take down her prey in a single, gloriously fulfilling moment.

_Even so, it would be a shame to kill the only one that can match you_, whispered a wheedling voice at the back of her mind unexpectedly. Oracle forced it down, her eyes hardening as she narrowed them, pressing the blade another half-millimeter into flesh. She thought she had gotten rid of that voice so long ago; _Do you really want to be alone in your mission? Maybe this one can help you… he seems to know about the human condition. See, he's almost as cold as you are!_

_Shut up!_ Oracle hissed back at the voice mentally, _'Feel no mercy'! I am not allowed to even think of sparing one _**pathetic**_ germ in this cesspool of rot_!

_But what if he's not a germ?_ The voice argued, refusing to be silenced this time, _what if he's a part of the cure?_

The girl, caught off guard, hesitated. The thwarted blade of her weapon gave one dissonant mumble of anger that was echoed in lower notes by the gauntlet and machete, but did not protest more than that. Oracle narrowed her eyes into slits, letting out a long breath that turned into a growl at the end as she measured the advantages of letting just one, only a single entity, escape her. Finally, her growl turning deep and rumbling in her throat, she forced her hand to lift the blade from the exposed neck, looking longingly at the beginning cut there before snarling and leaning down so that she could whisper in the other's ear.

"I think I'll let you live," she hissed icily, almost spitting the words, "For now…"

With that, she kicked him away, and by the time he had managed to get to his feet, she had disappeared.

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_AGAIN with the disappearing. Man, this girl is like a fricken ghost or something..._


	6. The Shadow

_Wow, I haven't updated in forever. I do have a reason on this one, though. It's becuase I like to keep at least a chapter ahead of what I post, and I've sorta... hit a small snag in the writing. I know where I'm going with this, it's just getting past a rather difficult to write part that's killing me. XX_

_Thanks for all your reviews._

Disclaimer: No I don't own these things. I own nothing but Oracle! Think otherwise and I'll send her after you! (points threateningly) Jhonen Vasquez owns everything else!

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Shit, Johnny thought tiredly, wincing as he opened his car door. The fight had taken its toll on him, a surprising outcome for one who so often came out the better off in a conflict. He only remembered one time before in which he had been injured so badly, though this time he hadn't been the one to cause the conflict nor had he had any desire to immortalize the moment. With a shudder, the maniac looked up into the stars, distantly seeing what a beautiful night it really was as they twinkled above.

He couldn't help but feel relieved that he wouldn't be going over them, tonight.

**What's wrong, Johnny? Feeling the burn of defeat?** Wheedled the voice of Reverend MEAT, somehow appearing back on the dashboard of the car, his face seeming both amused and expressionless at the same time. His voice, however, was much different, its tone mocking, **Those cuts pain you, don't they? Isn't it nice to be able to feel?**

"I don't notice them," the other lied, sighing tiredly as he sat half in and half out of the car, one leg still stretched down on the ground and the other being held close to his aching chest by one skinny, bleeding arm. Hesitantly, Johnny rubbed his wrists, shivering at the memory of contact with another human being.

**You forget that I live inside you, Nny**, stated the burger toy sternly, **I can tell when you're lying.**

"Fuck you," growled the maniac, glaring darkly at the manifestation, "I refuse to recognize them, and therefore they are nonexistent in my mind. I feel nothing."

**It's no use trying to convince your mind when your body knows otherwise**, persisted the other, **No matter how determined you are in refusing to accept the sensation, you will feel it! It is that unavoidable feeling that makes what you are trying to do impossible! Think with reason, Johnny, and realize that you can't escape what you are; it is imperative that you stop this charade at once and see the truth**!

"HOLE! Trying to undermine me, turn me back into a slave!" spat Johnny, the anger in his features clear as he confronted the figment, "This is MY life, MY existence! I refuse to be exploited any longer, not by demons outside this sick reality, and not by my own internal workings!"

**For a being who claims to be cold, you seem to be having a rather spectacular emotional fit.**

"Go to hell," muttered the maniac sullenly, whirling around in the seat so that he faced the steering wheel, pulling his leg into the car and closing the door before leaning on the wheel with a concentrated expression. His eyes were fixed straight ahead as he pulled out a bloodstained knife and rapped it in a soothing rhythm on the dash, close enough to the burger toy to serve as a clear warning to the manifestation. After a few long, silent moments of doing this, he sighed, leaning back and staring at the figment with one narrowed eye, "I can't get rid of you by throwing you off this cliff, can I?"

**No**, replied the toy promptly, **My presence here has already proved that no matter how much distance you put between yourself and the actual form of me, you can never escape what is a part of you. It really gives a new meaning to 'you can run, but you can't hide', doesn't it?**

"I suppose so," grumbled Johnny, "and it also puts a damper on my planned 'holiday'. There's very little point in escaping something that sticks to you like a disease, but I don't want to go back yet. That place, it rots my mind. It leaves me exposed to assault on what little sanity I have left."

**Where else can you go? This city is full of those feelings you so despise and wish to alienate yourself from, Nny.**

"Not here," murmured Johnny, lifting his eyes from the sight of the horizon, with its noisy patchwork of streets and lights below, to the dark blue-black canvas of the heavens, "This place is cold. No one is here to bother me."

**That girl may still be here, watching you.**

Johnny let his eyes flick over to the dark silhouette of the burger toy, mulling over the idea of testing out his theory by throwing the manifestation off the cliff anyway, even if he _would_ just come back. It would at least relieve some tension, but the maniac decided against it; giving in to his urge would only make the figment stronger, and weaken his own resolve for his mission. He had to remain cold.

But what if she really _was_ still out there, waiting and watching?

"_No_," Johnny growled, shaking his head as he caught on to what the manifestation was trying to do, "That's _not_ going to work on me, MEAT. I'm not going to give in to paranoia on your behalf. So what if she's still out there? I don't give a shit."

Even as he said those last sentences, Johnny marveled at how unconvincing and flat the words sounded.

**Touched a nerve there, did I?** asked the toy, his painted grin seeming to grow wider and eyes losing their pupils, turning his gaze into one that reminded the maniac disturbingly of Mr. Eff, **You can't stand knowing that there are now two beings out there that you couldn't kill if you tried, can you? Two beings that, if you bothered to take notice of your feelings right now, you would realize that you are afraid of? Both almost killed you, and both spared you…**

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" snarled Johnny suddenly, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were bright white. Reverend MEAT took no notice, continuing on his tirade of words, prodding and poking into the tender wounds of the maniac's soul.

**…And you don't know why! You WANTED them to kill you, but they refused you that, instead letting you live with the guilt of what you've done… Oh, excuse me; I forgot that you no longer feel guilt. Or do you? You can't tell me that you didn't before, with those other excuses for manifestations. I'm sure the bunny had you going for quite some time on the morality of your actions… But I digress…**

"_Don't_ talk about Nailbunny, you dumb fucking burger toy!" Johnny hissed, arms shaking as he tried to keep from lashing out and eyes squinted with the effort.

_Stay cold. Don't give him what he wants, Nny._

_Nailbunny?_

**The most amusing thing about it is that you know that you can't possibly stay 'cold'. Avoiding touch does not make you unable to feel it, ignoring hunger does not make you immune to taste, refusing sleep cannot hide you from your dreams!**

"STOP talking, you EFFING BASTARD!" Johnny's voice nearly cracked, the pain evident behind his pitifully attempted calm.

**I can't, Nny**, replied the figment, the first trace of something more than a commanding or mocking tone beginning to show in the voice. Johnny laid his forehead on his hands, gasping as he tried to compose himself, and thus didn't notice the slightly softer quality of the words, **Lies can comfort you, hide you away from the world, but the truth is always painful. That is the only reality you should know.**

"I'm going home," said Johnny suddenly, starting up the car as he ignored the words spoken to him. Within an instant, it was as if the conversation had never happened, and the maniac was indifferently rolling the car down the cliff, his eyes on the lit area in front of him and his mind completely shut off from the world. Knowing that no matter how much he yelled, he was no longer going to have an influence, Reverend MEAT sighed inaudibly and settled back into a dormant state, allowing his outer form to revert back to the fat little burger toy that it had always been.

At least he had made progress.

* * *

Oracle rose an eyebrow at the soft grumbling as the maniac got in the car, his weight in the front seat making the backing shift towards her even more, squeezing her even tighter into the small, dark space where she hid and waited. Her music had been turned off long ago, her weapons hushed, so that now she could concentrate her full attention onto the one being that she had spared, for reasons even she wasn't sure of.

"I don't notice them," he said tiredly, letting out a sigh. Oracle narrowed her eyes suspiciously and listened harder, distantly wondering whom he was talking to. As she listened, the echoes of her thoughts were quite suddenly joined by the whisper of another voice, one that the girl had never before heard or imagined. She held back from making a sound of curiosity, though, knowing with ill-tempered certainty that if she did she would be as good as dead, especially in the closed space she had chosen to hide herself in.

_…I can tell when you're lying, _the voice hissed, prodded.

As the other replied, Oracle suddenly realized that he acted as if he had heard this voice before. That was interesting, and made her eventual goal of stalking the person to find out exactly why that voice in her head had resurfaced when she tried to kill him all the more appealing. Voices, especially the ones in a person's head, should not have been able to be heard by any but the affected person. The fact that she could hear the strange whispering made the girl speculate, especially about her weapons and her own bizarre ability to hear their haunting music that remained inaudible to all others.

The conversation was becoming ever more heated, although the only one showing it was the one that was referred to as 'Johnny'. It seemed as if the two had had this argument many times before, and as Oracle listened, she had to grudgingly admit that the voice was making entirely too much sense. It amused her more sadistic side that he was using her own actions against the maniac, though she reluctantly began to become distantly curious about the background of the conversation and why the troubled male had become so upset. Who was this other who had almost killed her opponent?

Suddenly, there was one last outburst, and the argument died down to almost nothing, simmering back into an impending flicker of the flame. Oracle distantly sensed the voice retreating into some otherworldly space as the car started up, shaking her slightly even though she was wedged almost as tightly as possible between the seats. The girl sat in almost utter silence for long moments, eyes blazing silently as she stared into the impenetrable darkness, her mind flitting from one subject to another, almost unable to remain in focus when no music was there to keep her occupied. The glaive tentatively began to strike up a soothing cord, and Oracle mentally smiled at it, urging the weapon to continue and hoping that the sound, even though it was less sound than a tune in her mind, would help her concentrate. At this cue, the others began singing as well, telling of the night's battle and how their master had prevailed through all, though their voices were made up of nothing but notes. Silently, the girl relived what had happened, closing her eyes and reflecting on nothing but the music as the car sped through the streets to a place she knew not where.

Just as the song was coming to the close, to the point where she had spared her opponent, the car screeched to a stop, knocking the girl against the front of the seat and almost making her gasp involuntarily, though any sound she made was inaudible through the noise of the engine. She remained motionless and on edge, anyway, piercing eyes intensely focused on the floor before her in concentration, as the sound of the car sputtered and faded away as it was turned off, and then as door opened, allowing the one called Johnny to climb out. Oracle stared harder into the darkness as the door clicked shut, hearing the sharp sound of the maniac's metal-tipped boots clicking against the ground harshly as he walked away, completely unaware of her presence.

Oracle refused to move until her legs finally began to go numb, forcing her to shift from her position. As she did so, boots scuffling ever so slightly upon the ragged and almost worn away carpet, something that had been balancing precariously on the top of the backseat toppled, striking her hard in her injured leg. The girl cursed mentally, lips pulled back in some discomfort as she reached forward to take the object in her hands. As she lifted it up to the dim light of the moon streaming in through the windows, eyes squinted as she tried to clear the details; she realized that the object was, in fact, a book. And not just any book, either, but the ragged, bloodstained journal that belonged to the very person she was following.

Silently, Oracle allowed herself a small, smug smirk; she almost couldn't believe her luck. Almost.

Carefully, the girl lifted her head to the window, looking outside and searching for the telltale signs of anyone that may have been hiding in the shadows, waiting for her to emerge from the car or even simply standing around, as so many people tended to do in a city. The outside, lit by the bright light of the moon in the now clear sky, was completely deserted, and looked to have been that way for a long time. The only thing visible in the filtering moonlight through the window was the large, looming shadow of the maniac's house, which seemed suspiciously like the old weapons shop that Oracle had gained. Brows furrowing slightly, she gripped the book firmly in her gauntleted hand and twisted to open the door, wincing as a small, impossibly loud click echoed through the darkness. Cautiously, she put one leg out, her large boot setting against the floor, before she gained confidence and slipped out of her cover, her hard eyes flashing brightly in the light from the moon.

**Eh? Who do we have here?**

_Shit_, Oracle thought in exasperation as she head the voice that was no longer just a whisper in the back of her mind, her gaze being driven towards the front of the car, where they finally rested on the shadowed form of a Bub's Burger Boy. One eyebrow rose skeptically as she stared blankly.

**Yes, I am the one speaking**, mumbled the toy, exasperation in the voice, **So? Are you going to answer me?**

"No," Oracle hissed, instantly banishing her slight cynicism in favor of her previously icy demeanor, "I have better things to do than talk to restaurant figures."

**One would think you'd have better things to do than stalk a homicidal maniac.**

"When his existence affects my mission, it becomes the only thing to do," growled the girl shortly, snorting as she closed the door silently and turned from the figment, making it clear that she was no longer listening to it's chatter. Mentally, she heard a derisive snort, followed by a slight chuckle. Oracle bristled marginally, her head turning slightly back towards the car as she paused in mid-step. Her hand pulled back, fingering the handle of the glaive as she considered impaling the toy before going about her business. As if to encourage her, the glaive began to sing joyfully, its voice nearly hungry as it slipped out of the sheath almost as if by its own will.

**No need for that**, said the figment quickly. Oracle narrowed her eyes at the strange, uneasy tone, the blade of the glaive glinting, before she shrugged noncommittally and sheathed it, eliciting a quiet but harsh clash of notes in her head. It was like the glaive was trying to reprimand her for her recent bout of sparing those that annoyed her. Oracle grudgingly agreed with it, but her long dormant curiosity had been piqued, and she didn't want to reveal her presence here any sooner than she absolutely had to. If the toy cried out, it was entirely possible that the one called Johnny would at least come to investigate, and Oracle didn't want nor need that manner of discovery. **I was merely reflecting on my amusement that the stalker has become the stalked. Such an irony in it, don't you think? You should know, I believe. Predator becoming prey, prey becoming predator, the most powerful falling to those once thought weak.**

"I know," Oracle hissed darkly, one eyelid rising slightly in speculation at the statement.

**You understand things. Not like the one inside; he's still confused. He doesn't understand that we are all slaves to something, and no matter how hard we try, our animal instincts will always win in the end.**

"It figures that one of the most intelligent statements I've ever heard comes from a talking burger toy," muttered the girl, her eyes becoming more normal as she relaxed another increment, leaning back against the hood of the car and glaring at the dark shadow on the other side of the windshield that showed where the figment lay, "Good thing I gave up on trying to figure out if I was insane a long time ago."

**Insanity is just a term the deluded use to describe the truth.**

Oracle was silent for a long moment, but then she stood from her leaning position, her gaze shifting towards the decrepit house and her hand, with the gauntlet still attached, fingering the tattered cover of the journal. No lights were on in the part of the house she could see, and the windows had no glass in them; it would be an easy matter to get inside.

**The door has never been locked**, commented the burger toy. Oracle narrowed her eyes to fiery slits, her golden-yellow iris' glinting in the moonlight as she glared at the manifestation, all three of her weapons rumbling warningly in a tense cord. Mentally, she felt the figment shrug, and with a quiet growl she brushed off her urge to destroy and approached the shadowed wall with a slow, measured step that was as silent as a ghostly illusion. She didn't bother to turn her CD player back on, knowing that even now, presumably safe, she would need all her senses at their peak.

Being careless had never been something the girl thought of as a wise thing, anyway.

It was strange, though, not having that ever-present background of music that she had grown so used to over the years. If she had been so inclined, Oracle would have perhaps admitted that there was some connection between her concentration and the songs that had made themselves a major part of her life since she had first received the silver device so many years ago. She had always been better able to see the true face of the world when the mindless chatter of the disease was drowned out by something louder, something clean and pure and truthful.

_Noise cannot be drowned out by silence, after all_, something in the back of her mind whispered. Oracle growled mentally, the glaive instantly appearing in her hand once more, but after a long moment of silence in her thoughts and the land around her she allowed herself to relax, letting out a long breath as she cracked her neck with one swift motion of her head. It was futile to respond to such an invisible voice, anyway, and the girl knew that she was merely reacting to the echoes of her own thoughts, things that normally would be silenced by blaring headphones.

Still not inclined to move, Oracle let her eyes rove the land around her, showing no emotion or interest as she took in the grassless dirt beneath her feet, the glitter of several broken remains of either windows or bottles strewn across it, and the small, decrepit sign that seemed to be made out of a wood that was only a few years short of petrifaction. On either side of the house, what seemed to be normal, average buildings stood as dark guardians of the night, their silhouettes seeming somehow larger than they could possibly be. Rising above them were the leafy branches of healthy trees, a rare find in the city; the existence of the vegetation itself showed the girl that she was in an older part of the metropolis, and probably a part that she had rarely if ever frequented.

The night air was rather cold, though, being as the season was only just beginning to shift into a late spring, and the girl huffed as she turned back to look at the run down house, eying the shadowy door speculatively. The manifestation had told her that it was never locked, but Oracle hadn't gotten where she was by being foolish. Using the skills she had learned from her former weapons master, she approached the door and cautiously tested the handle. When nothing sudden resulted from her action, she slowly turned it, being careful to make no noise and scanning the surroundings for any movement as she slipped into the darkness of what seemed to be something of a living room.

The area was deserted, and though Oracle knew otherwise, looked to have been that way for a long time. In a high corner of the room, a tattered, ragged noose hung from the ceiling, and the walls, most of which were in serious disrepair and rotted almost all the way through, were stained darkly in places with something that the girl couldn't identify in the dark. She rose an eyebrow, lip twitching upwards as she speculated, but didn't spare more than a moment for thought as she closed the door noiselessly behind her, her eyes flashing one last time in the streaming moonlight before it was cut off as if a gigantic knife had sliced through it, decapitating its cold brilliance.

She took a step forward, her feet, heavily booted as they were, somehow managing to miss the various breakable items littering the warped floorboards. Suddenly and inexplicably, a large and rather disturbing grin crossed her features, her hand rising –glaive still held firmly- to brush away the curving lock of her bangs before she straightened and her eyes fell on the deep, black rectangle that signified a doorway or stairwell of some sort. A haunting echo of the ghosts of terrified screams and tortured sobbing drifted up from the depths of that deep blackness, the residue of what had once been horrors beyond imagining.

Oracle's fingers flexed on both the handle of the glaive and the cover of the tattered journal as she strode over to the pit, her smile fading to a mere quirk of the lip as she looked down into the chilling darkness that enveloped her in a cloak of oblivion. The depth she could sense as she gazed downwards was amazing, and slowly the girl felt something she hadn't felt for a long time as she realized that down there, in the hollow of the maze of rooms she was certain awaited her, she could find a space that would conceal her presence.

Contentment.

* * *

_And the plot moves forward! The world rejoices!  
... or not..._


End file.
